


now, heres you

by flagpoles



Category: Chalet Girl
Genre: F/M, was i drunk when i wrote this?? how can you ask me that also yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flagpoles/pseuds/flagpoles
Summary: She snorts. “What a stupid rule. What incentive will I have to win the gold if not marriage?”“I’ll divorce you if you don’t.” he says, lighting quick.She sighs, tutting, “Well can’t have all that paperwork.”-Kim & Jonny & all the other stuff





	now, heres you

**Author's Note:**

> im drunk!! and tired!! truly no one thinks or cares about his quite bad movie from 2011 but u know what!!! drunk me does and she CANNOT proofread im going to bed
> 
> truly the reason why this movie wasnt a critical success was bc they spelt jonnys name like that.................. @ movie execs one of yall couldnt flag that as a bad idea

 

 

Mikki and Georgie break up and Georgie calls Kim, blind drunk, from somewhere in Holland.

 

“You’re in where?” Kim still couldn’t fully open her eyes.

 

Unintelligible noise followed. Something about travelling Europe and growing as a person. “When have you ever wanted to grow as a person?” Kim asked, and beside her Jonny snorts.

 

Georgie went silent, which is how she knows she’s fucked it. “Sorry, bad joke,” she started to get out of bed and Jonny reached out to grab her wrist.

 

“Don’t.” he groaned, half-asleep. She’d been away training for Air & Style in Canada for two weeks and arrived home two days ago to find him making baked beans to show how down to earth he’d gotten since she’d been gone.

 

“Emergency” she whispered, slipping out of his grip, “two seconds.” He made a half-hearted noise of disagreement. Kim leant over, pushed his hair out of his face and his mouth twitched. He’d eaten his baked beans with a fork and then when she refused to tell him why she found this so funny, had knocked over his glass of water trying to kiss her. He was pretty alright.

 

She padded to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against the door and sliding down to the tile. “What happened?”

 

/

 

Sometimes he came with her to television interviews and waited in the green room, rode in the car home and made fun of her jeans while trying to take them off. When he’s away however, he calls her when she’s done, even if its four a.m. Barbados time.

 

“How’s the skiing? Anything you can recommend?” she pulled off her shoes in the back of the car, a nice taxi Channel Four had hired.

 

“Don’t really think it’s your scene.” She could hear his smile, “but I have learnt to boogie board.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Yeah, Jackson’s teaching me.”

 

“Whose Jackson?”

 

“The client’s kid nephew.”

 

She laughed, let her head drop back against the seat and pictured him in the sea standing next to a nine-year-old, being very bad at boogie-boarding. “Hope you’re paying him well.”

 

“Nah, kids aren’t part of labour laws.”

 

“Knew that very quick, had to pull out that information before have you?”

 

“Believe it or not child labour is frowned upon in general business practise.”

 

“Shame.”

 

/

 

It wasn’t all great. He grew up on essentially a different planet which means he was bad at acknowledging restaurant waiters and was often dismissive and lived in this strange bubble with every opportunity and yet thinking he had none. She spent a lot of time reminding him that he was quite literally part of the one-percent, and to stop feeling sorry for himself just because his mother forced him to go to some Earls wedding.

 

(She didn’t go, and she said it’s because she had a sponsorship thing with New Balance but they both knew it was because she didn’t want to. They had a fight and he left for Italy mad.)

 

“Just ring him,” Georgie was being entirely unsympathetic over the phone while apparently eating an apple, “You’ll feel better if you talk to him.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll just apologise for being totally right.” Kim threw the kitchen dishcloth into the sink. When she was irritated she cleaned, and the kitchen floor was currently so pristine you’d think she was covering up a murder.

 

“Waiting for him to ring you gives him all the power.” Georgie was practically singing.

 

“Stop trying to use reverse psychology on me.”

 

“Stop being stubborn and just _call him.”_

 

“Shouldn’t you be tanning?” Georgie and Mikki had moved to L.A for the summer because that was just the kind of people they were.

 

“Who says I’m not?” she says, just as someone shouts “Kim!” down the line.

 

“Mikki, tell Georgie she isn’t nearly as good as giving advice as she thinks she is.”

 

“You’re right,” Mikki’s voice, muffled, “she’s _better._ ” the sound of someone climbing on-top someone else.

 

“Jesus, _goodbye_.”

 

/

 

She waited two days and then does ring him. She did not tell Georgie about this.

 

/

 

Her Dad is happy with Lexi and Tracy finished her communications degree and Adidas had reached out and the X games were weeks away and she’ll probably do very well according to every pundit and Mikki and it’s all going very well, really, only her mum was still dead.

 

On the fifth anniversary she drinks and ungodly amount of wine and ends up spread out in the snow outside the chalet, no snow boots on, looking at the sky.

 

“Hey,” Jonny loomed in front of her, face white in the moonlight, “it’s freezing.”

 

“Pussy.” Kim said, even though she hates that insult.

 

He cocked his head, “You hate that word.” He kept looking at her, and she keeps being looked at, and it all sucks but it’s all also good, and she feels guilty about it. About how things can still be good and her mum isn’t around for them, holding a homemade sign, telling her she’s the best thing she’ll ever do.

 

“It’ll be better if you come inside.” Jonny’s uncrossed his arms and is holding them out to her, shivering. He’s in short-sleeves and he still came outside to get her. “Kim,” His voice again, all concerned, knowing her all the way through, “come on.”

 

She puts her arms up, “pull me up.” She sounds like a child, but he grasps her hands.

 

//

 

She calls her Dad on Thursday’s and Sunday’s when she’s away, tells him about the training and the people and the parties, of which there are many because apparently all sponsorship deals mean is wearing some gear occasionally and then getting wickedly drunk at brand parties.

 

He ends every call with the same joke, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

And she responds every time with something like: “so I shouldn’t get high the night before my graduation with my science teacher” or “so i won’t eat the minute hand on an alarm clock on a dare, then?”

 

“Why did I ever tell you anything about me?” He despairs, not meaning it, and she smiles.

 

//

 

She’s crashed before: tweaked back, sprained wrist, once a cracked rib, but she’s doing a backside 180 rewind in practise for FIS and comes down so hard she hears her ankle snap. After than she doesn’t hear much else, being passed out, but she wakes up and Jonny is sitting in a chair next to her bed biting his nails.

 

“Gross.” She croaks, and his eyes snap up.

 

“Christ,” he leans forward and pulls his chair in toward her.

 

“How bad is it?” she has visions of never snowboarding again, never even skiing, just sitting and watching the snow pile up around her.

 

“Surgery went well.” He’s holding her hand, “They say they won’t know that damage for a few weeks. It’s broken in two places.”

 

“Boarding?”

 

“Doctor says her best guess is that you’ll be okay as long as you don’t overdo it.”

 

She grips his fingers, smooth hand, large palm. “my whole career is sort of built on overdoing it.”

 

He looks at her, thumb sliding over her palm and leans forward to kiss her, brief, hardly there, then rests his mouth against her cheek, “it’ll be alright.”  

 

//

 

At her own wedding Georgie gets entirely too drunk and knocks over the eleven-tier wedding cake Caroline had paid for, which didn’t turn out to be too much of an issue as Mikki just ate it off the floor to much applause.

 

His Finnish family are lovely and are even more lovely when laden with alcohol, and Jonny ends up dancing with Mikki’s aunt who tries very hard to get him to buy a timeshare. “Throw her a bone.” His father joked, wryly, and Jonny rolled his eyes.

 

‘Fuck the investors in our company, then?”

 

“What are you worried about money for?” Richard pointed at Kim, “You’ll look after him, won’t you Kim? Keep him feed?”

 

She smiled, “Depends.”

 

Jonny raised his eyebrows, the only guy here wearing a bow-tie that she still has to tie for him because he never bothered to learn. (“Why bother?” he says, when questioned, grinning, “I’ll always have you around”) “On what?” he joked.

 

“How much often I get to go to the timeshare”

 

//

 

She turns twenty-five and Adidas throws her a party with a cake shaped like snowboard, like they’re trying to will away the shoulder injury that’s sidelined her for more than five months.

 

“A lot of people here.” Her dad says, for the fifth time, nursing a beer, “Is that Andy Murray?”

 

“Probably not.” She gulps wine and wishes, for a hot flashing second, that there was a ramp nearby. A skateboard ramp. Something really and truly familiar.

 

“Hey!” Tracy all but runs into her, “Happy birthday, holy shit!” she pulls back, “Look at this place!” she looks around in awe, at the stage where the band is playing and where Tami Roach, actual professional ski-jumper and her good friend, is apparently trying to do a handstand over Nigel. Kim grasps Tracy’s wrist, a shock of the familiar. Surely, somehow, she can have that and this at the same time. Tracy was all at once slack jawed, “Oh my god, is that Andy Murray?”

 

//

 

“I think the only person likely to steal it is you, the amount you talk about it.” Kim fingers the silver medal currently hanging over the sink, where she is doing the dishes.

 

“Nah, more of a gold man.” Jonny’s voice through the phone.

 

She laughs. “I’m thinking of giving it to your mother to make up for you not being a father of nine children with perfect teeth.”

 

“Don’t you dare, she’ll probably hang it in the upstairs loo or something, totally misuse it.”  she was going to cut in and ask if there was a right way to use it but he kept talking, “besides, there’s still time.”

 

“Not for nine children there isn’t.”

 

“I’d settle for two.”

 

Her hands are warm from the water but her body is from something else. “Can’t guarantee perfect teeth.”

 

“What’s the point of all this money if not for braces?”

 

//

 

Jonny says he’ll marry her if she wins the gold in four years and then, a year later, says he can’t wait that long. “I’d have asked you sooner but Dad always says it’s wrong to marry someone under 26” He tells her, lying in bed, playing with her fingers.

 

She snorts. “What a stupid rule. What incentive will I have to win the gold if not marriage?”

 

“I’ll divorce you if you don’t.” he says, lighting quick.

 

She sighs, tutting, “Well can’t have all that paperwork.” And then leans over to kiss him senseless.

 

//

 

She doesn’t win the gold, gets the silver again by .8 of a mark. She often brings up his divorce bit at parties the year following, holding a glass of grape juice because of the baby and toasting to their imminent separation. Jonny ducks his head as everyone laughs, and he grins, looking at her, and this is better than the familiar. This, here, is the right thing. Its arrived.  


End file.
